


Live to Serve

by ilcuoreardendo



Series: SubObi Week 2018 [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Sotiris, Dominant Qui-Gon Jinn, Dooku is snarky, Gen, M/M, Master/Servant, May/December Relationship, Older Man/Younger Man, Sith, Sith Apprentice Obi-Wan, Sith Qui-Gon Jinn, Sith Shenanigans, Submissive Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 00:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilcuoreardendo/pseuds/ilcuoreardendo
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi had been with his Sith master for four years. At first, he'd begun tending domestic matters because he was grateful. Then because he felt obligated to give back to the man who saved him. And then because it feltgood...and it wasn't just the pleasure of a job well done.





	Live to Serve

**Author's Note:**

> A while back I posted the beginning of an AU where Qui-Gon was not part of the Jedi order, which resulted in Obi-Wan ending up on Bandomeer. 
> 
> You can read that here: [**Salvation on Bandomeer**](http://ilcuoreardendo-fic.tumblr.com/post/173827982263/salvation-on-bandomeer-sithqui-rejected)
> 
> This is, in essence, set in that universe. (I had no real plans to flesh it out but...here we are.) This was for SubObi week over at Tumblr. The Day 3 prompt was Sith AU.

* * *

Qui-Gon exhaled. “I think I have a problem.”

“I’ve told you that from the moment you brought him home,” Dooku said.

“Congratulations, Master. You were right.”

“Don’t be smart.”

Qui-Gon ran his hand over his face in an uncharacteristic gesture, closed his eyes.

“You, as Sotiris, would do well to turn him,” Dooku offered, his tone one of someone who felt they should offer advice even knowing it would not be taken. Truth be told, he liked his adopted, well…under the circumstances, the word grandson wasn’t particularly appropriate. But Obi-Wan had spirit, strength, a connection with the Force that should be nurtured, trained and not wasted on growing plants.

“No. I don’t want him falling down the same canyons of shadow that I fall, much as I enjoy bringing him close to the edge. He’s not meant for the Dark. And I… I want his _Light_.” Qui-Gon  sat back, knowing he’d said too much. He didn’t have to look at Dooku to see that. “Two years. It’s been two of seeing him wanting me and my doing nothing about it, pretending I don’t even notice—”

“For what?”

“What?”

Dooku raised an eyebrow. “Why have you been ignoring the attraction between you?”

“He’s my apprentice.”

The other brow arched. “This is not the Jedi Order. There are no rules about fraternization between masters and apprentices. He is of legal age in this system. And he’s far more mature than you were at 17.”

“Well I, I…” Qui-Gon stopped, face going momentarily slack before he blinked, straightened, rose from his chair and left the room.

Dooku shook his head and turned back to his books, snorting softly. “How common sense evades the intelligent.”

 

**# # #**

 

17 year old Obi-Wan Kenobi had been with his Sith master for four years, plucked off Bandomeer just when he thought he might go mad having to Force coax one more seedling to sprout. Not that he had anything against seedlings or farming and, in fact, often found gardening a good form of meditation, but that was not what he wanted from life.

And Qui-Gon…Master Sotiris had known that.

Looking at the time, Obi-Wan stood, stretched and padded out into the kitchen, setting the tea kettle to heat. His master had commed him earlier to tell him the time he would be back. Hot tea would be a good welcome home.  

It had been weeks since Obi-Wan had seen Qui-Gon, Master Tyrannus having sent him off to some far flung planet to work on making political connections, about which Obi-Wan was not yet to know. So he pretended he didn’t.  He kept to his books and the lessons his master had set him and tended to the home they shared.

Obi-Wan wandered into the sitting room, looking over it closely. He’d had the cleaning droid sweep the carpet clean, but everything else he’d taken care of: dusting the books, organizing the holocrons in their cupboard, picking up the clothes that had gotten flung around haphazardly in his master’s absence. He spied a pair of socks and plucked them up, throwing them into the laundry chute for the droid to take care of.

At first, he’d started cleaning up and tending to matters that his master seemed to overlook or discard because he was grateful. Then, because he felt obligated to give back to the man who had saved him, who had put a lightsaber back in his hands and taught him the ways of the Force; those the Jedi would have taught and much more.

And then…well, then it was because when Obi-Wan did things for his master, he felt _good_. Not just the pleasure of a job well done, but a warmth unfurling deep in his belly that he couldn’t rightly explain.

Until a few weeks ago, the night before his master was due to depart. He’d come in from a training session with Master Tyrannus, wearied as always after such a session, and slumped into his chair, not even taking his boots off.

So Obi-Wan did it for him. Found a strange and immeasurable pleasure in kneeling at Qui-Gon’s feet, releasing the buckles and, one hand behind his master’s knee, working the boot off one foot before switching to the next.

Only when both boots were off, did Obi-Wan raise his head. The look on Qui-Gon’s face was startling. Not the gold of his eyes. Obi-Wan noticed that sometimes happened in moments of heightened emotion. He was used to it, found it beautiful. But the naked want on Qui-Gon’s face, the intense hunger. It had had him reeling back on his haunches.

Then Qui-Gon thanked him, rose and disappeared into his room for the rest of the evening.

He’d replayed the moment in his head everyday that Qui-Gon had been gone. He hasn’t misread the desire, surely. And Qui-Gon had to know how he felt. Obi-Wan knew he’d been less than discreet at times, try as he might.

Obi-Wan heard the lock disengage and he met Qui-Gon at the door, ready to take his cloak.

“How was your trip, Master?”

“Successful, if overly long. How have you been, my apprentice? Did you complete your lessons?”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan hung the cloak, turned to face Qui-Gon. “And Master Tyrannus has been working with me on my saber technique.”

“Good.” Qui-Gon paused, watching him. The silence grew thick with anticipation. Then, “Come, Obi-Wan. Remove my boots.”

Obi-Wan twitched in surprise, followed Qui-Gon to his chair, watched him settle. Qui-Gon looked up at him expectantly. Feeling that funny warmth in his belly again, Obi-Wan, not breaking eye contact with Qui-Gon, slowly knelt, reached for the first buckle.

“Socks too,” Qui-Gon said after a moment.

Obi-Wan complied. One foot naked and he admired the strong arch and long toes, resisting the urge to run his finger along the underside of his master’s foot.

By the time Qui-Gon was bootless and sockless, Obi-Wan could hear the change in his breathing and he sat back on his haunches, looking up at his master expectantly.

Qui-Gon leaned forward. He cupped the back of Obi-Wan’s head, tangled his fingers in the loosely bound hair. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, felt Qui-Gon’s breath on his cheek.

The kettle hummed in the kitchen, sputtering water.

“That’ll be the tea, Master.”

“Wonderful. You may serve it.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan rose, stopped when Qui-Gon’s fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Naked, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s breath hitched. The warmth that had pooled in his belly shot down his legs, made them weak, pooled in his crotch. Qui-Gon was looking at him closely, searchingly, and Obi-Wan smiled.

“Yes. Master.” Obi-Wan began to disrobe. Having been mostly at home, he was only wearing a tunic and trousers. He folded them neatly and set them on the sofa, standing in front of Qui-Gon as naked as the day he was born.

“No underwear?” Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan flushed. “Never around the house, Master.”

Qui-Gon nodded as if this were sage advice. “See to the tea, then.”

In the kitchen, Obi-Wan tried to control his shaking hands, especially once he splashed himself with boiling water. Luckily, he’d only spilled on his hand. He measured out leaves into the tea pot and added the water, then turned to arranging the cream and sugar on a tray, along with a plate of biscuits he’d come across in the pantry. He carried the lot carefully into the sitting room, placing it on the low table.

A hand on his flank startled him and Qui-Gon’s fingers stroked him gently as if in apology.

Kneeling again, Obi-Wan added cream and sugar to a cup, carefully pouring the tea, then offering the cup and saucer to Qui-Gon, who smiled at him, eyes flickering gold, then back to blue.

“I have a confession to make, apprentice. I’ve known about your feelings for some time now but was too caught up in old habits to do anything about it. That’s no longer an issue. And judging by your reaction…” Qui-Gon’s fingers brushed against Obi-Wan’s cock that lay half erect against his thigh. “You are open to this change.”

Obi-Wan, eyes wide, nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“Then we’ll have a lot to talk about. But not now. Now, I want to relax and enjoy my tea. Come here.”

Obi-Wan shifted closer to Qui-Gon’s chair, settling on his rump, the carpet beneath him soft and strangely compelling against his bare cheeks, his balls.

Qui-Gon cupped Obi-Wan’s head, guided it to rest against his thigh. Obi-Wan breathed in deep the smell of his master:  the metal and oil odor of small transport ships, far away places, ozone, detergent, the intimate scent of Qui-Gon’s sweat.

The smell of home.


End file.
